Talking to Ghosts
by McFlytheMusical
Summary: <html><head></head>In Cwm, Wales, Annie James was murdered and her killer was never found. Now, newcomer Victoria and her best friends Joe and Britta must find her killer and bring him to justice, whilst finding out secrets about themselves they never knew before. . .</html>


Talking to Ghosts

Chapter 1

St. Peter's Academy

Well, here I am. My new home. It seems so different from London, but then again, it seems so refreshing and new too.

I only learnt a week ago that we were moving here.

"Victoria?" Mum had said, "Your father and I have decided that we want to move to Cwm, in Wales. It would be so much easier with your fathers job and it would save him commuting every day."

My father works as a businessman. I'm not quite sure what he does exactly, but I'm sure it's very important.

I took a deep breath, and the heavy Welsh air filled my lungs. _Breath_, I told myself, _I'm doing this for dad. Nobody else._

I entered the school through the huge wooden doors, and coughed as the old smell that had probably been lingering around since the school was built hit me. The school must have been a hundred years old, at least.

"Excuse me?" I grabbed a boy by the shoulder, "Where is the main office? I'm new here." He smiled at me.

"It's down that hallway. I can take you, if you want." I nodded and took his arm. He seemed a nice guy.

"I'm Joseph."

"Victoria, but you can call me Vicky."

We walked into the office and I grabbed my schedule with all my classes off of the lady at the desk. We walked out and down the hallway together.

"So, where you from? You don't sound Welsh."

"London. Well, I was born in Liverpool, but I've lived in London my whole life."

"Is it nice there?"

"Yeah, I guess. Less cows though." He laughed at that.

"So why did you leave?"

"My dad got a new job here and he didn't really want to travel here every day."

"Oh, okay."

"So, how old is this school? Must be, what, a hundred years old."

"Two hundred and thirty seven actually."

"That's very exact."

"Hey, If you want the facts, I'm your man," he pointed to himself.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I know all the gossip in the school. Hey, there's Britta!" he said, pulling me over to his friend. She had long, curly black hair and chocolate brown eyes.

"Hey Joe!" she turned to me, "I haven't seen you around here before. You new?" I nodded.

"Cool. I'm Britta, short for Brittany."

"And this is Vicky, short for Victoria," Joseph said.

"Awesome. What class you in?"

"It says here I'm in. . . Mr Ferguson's class."  
>"Cool, me too. So, what were you talking about?"<p>

"Nothing much."

Britta turned to Joe.

"Haev you told her?"

"Told me what?"

"No."

"Told me what?"

"A girl was murdered here."

"Shut up! She was not!" I grinned.

"Yeah she was. It's really creepy. Some say her spirit still walks these halls."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Wow, that's. . . that's creepy."

"Yeah, well. Probably just superstition, you know," Britta smiled.

"Or is it! Whooooooo!" Joe said spookily, making ghost noises and moving his hands around. Britta laughed and I joined in. The bell rung.

"Let's go," Joe pulled me towards the classroom. Britta followed us, still grinning.

"You are such a weirdo Joe."

I sat with Britta and Joe at lunchtime. I guess they wanted to be my friends. The friends I hadn't had in London.

"Uh on," Joe said, "Something evil this way comes."

"What?" I asked, my mouth full of sandwich.

I turned to see a tall girl with her skirt rolled right up, exposing her thighs, and bleached blonde hair swaying towards us. She leaned on the table.

"Hey," she slurred. I supposed she had been secretly drinking.

"Hey," I said, picking at my sandwich.

"What do you want Natasha?" Joe sighed crossly.

"Just wanted to see the new girl. Heard you're from London. That true?" I didn't reply.

"Hey! I'm talking to you! You from London?"

I still didn't talk.

"I heard that your dad's a druggie."

"He's not."

"I also heard that he wants to give you up for adoption. Some dad. I heard that he hates you, and your mum."

"Don't you dare say that about my dad!" I yelled, " Don't you dare!"

"Why shouldn't I?" she challenged. I lunged myself at her, pulling at her hair, kicking at her matchstick legs.

"Get off of me!" she screamed, but I didn't.

"Get off her!" her friends, my friends screamed, but I didn't. It was only when Joe finally managed to pull me off onto the floor, I realised what I'd done. The girl, Natasha, was slumped against the wall with clumps of her hair torn out and bruises all up her legs. I also realised that I'd probably lost Joe and Britta as my friends, that they would hate me like everyone else. It was like this at every school I had ever been to, I got into a fight and all my friends desert me.

I got up, my legs trembling and walked out of the room towards the headteachers office. I knew I would get in trouble sooner or later and Dad would have to quit his job and we would have to move back to London.

"Vicky! Vicky! Where are you going?" Joe called.

"To the office."

"Why?" Britta asked.

"To turn myself in."

"What? Why?"  
>"Erm, were you not there? I practically killed that girl. Better to turn myself in now that get into more trouble."<p>

"Are you kidding me? Natasha's fine. She got up straight afterwards. Anyway, it's about time she got what was coming to her," Joe smiled.

"But her head. . ."

"She's fine. Like I said, she got up straight afterwards and laughed it off."

"But she was so hurt!"

"She just looked hurt. Maybe inside she was fine."

I sighed.

"Fine. You guys are still my friends right?"

"Of course we are!" Joe grinned, but Britta looked unsure.

"I don't know. . ."

"Britta, I know you care about image, but can you just forget about that for once?"

"Fine." she smiled. We all hugged and walke dback into the lunch room, just to find everyone had gotten back to eating.

"Well, at least they've forgotten about me."


End file.
